At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Tuesday, June 20, 2017


Every Tuesday we test the emergency siren at various locations in San Francisco at twelve noon exactly. This is followed by the unintelligible airport announcement.

As my apartment mate translates it: "We are not dead yet, despite the orange-faced idiot's instability. But we might be, and soon, so make sure you've told everyone you like how much you appreciate them, unless you are socially maladroit, because when it happens you'll be far too busy running around in a panic to do so. And a pretty thank you."

We worry about such things in San Francisco. Social maladroitness.

Anti-vaxxers, gluten-phobics, vegans, self-entitled twats, the black block, racists, bigots, tattooed slags, carpetbaggers from the rest of the country, conspiracy theorists, and the entire upper echelon of that other party.

The Venn diagram that shows the divergence of those types, as you would expect, is rather limited. Most Americans are so infinitely talented that they can be all of those things at once.

On another subject, cell-phone usage frequently epitomizes how bad many people are at actually interacting with other humans. No matter the time or place, they are transfixed by the glowing screen. A few people I know seldom use the damned thing, and some don't even own one.
Like me. I don't want or need it.

People have asked "but what if there's an emergency?"

If there is an emergency, we shall be alerted by people around us running around in a panic, because a siren went off, and they can't find the safety instructions (where is that damned App), and can't see where they are going because they are staring at their electronic pacifier.

They have reached their fullest potential.
And will advance no further.
It's bloody sad.

I had a beeper once, but there are almost no pay phones anymore.
If I'm not near a land line, I might be engrossed.
There is no answering machine.

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


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